


Their Brother

by Somnous_Butler



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Accidents, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Original Series, Protective Siblings, Siblings, Terror in New York City, Thunderbirds - Freeform, Unconsciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29448033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somnous_Butler/pseuds/Somnous_Butler
Summary: Through a perspective and "What if" scenario from Thunderbirds - episode: Terror In New York City; starting just before the moment Thunderbird 2 crashes on the runway in the safe vicinity of Tracy Island.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Their Brother

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the summary, simply enjoy the read.
> 
> First 10 paragraphs include dialogue that is the original script from the episode. It's altered slightly but not as such. Everything described is accurate from the cutaways you can easily find online.
> 
> Please do not repost on other websites, leave negative remarks or comments.
> 
> All characters of Thunderbirds ( Original Series ) (c) Gerry and Sylvia Anderson.

“ _We're nearly home_ , _Virgil_. _We're nearly home_.”

Scott's voice was a blessing to Virgil's ears. He knew he was within the safe vicinity of the island; home indeed.

“Undercart down. Flaps . . . down. Banking for . . . for final approach,” Virgil grunted as he steered Thunderbird 2 to starboard of 90 degrees to align with the sandy runway for the green leviathan.

In the distance, Thunderbird 1 hovers just above the cliffs that separate the hidden silo and front of the house. Pilot Scott Tracy watched through the entry hatch with baited breath, daring not to bat an eyelid, he knew he had to keep a surveillance over Thunderbird 2 – the vital transporter of rescue equipment to succeed on-call rescues – the damaged avian now trembled as it began to descend.

“Slowly Virgil,” Scott whispered to himself, “Ease her down gently. She can't afford to stall – She needs to make it; Brother, you must make it!”

“Easy does it . . . Easy,” Virgil spoke in a hoarse tone as he set his crippled 'Bird into a slight dip before the runway.

Through weak visibility of the heavy smoke that fogged up the cockpit, and the young man's lungs, Virgil managed to perceive his Father had everything prepared should the worse decide to play the cruel game of fate; the palm-trees that line up the runway have been parted, and now rows of poles that are filled to the brim of extinguishing foam were on standby.

Despite his best effort to land safely, Thunderbird 2's system had already struggled long enough; the damage was done – she struck the ground with a hard blow, damaging her wheels which immediately collapsed on impact – she would not respond to the controls, nor her pilot.

“He's down,” Scott sighed, “but not free of danger.”

“Wheels are gone . . . I – I can't hold her. I'm . . . I'm going to crash!” Virgil choked, fruitlessly turning the steering wheel, desperate to stop Thunderbird 2 straying toward rough terrain, the parted palm-trees and extinguisher poles.

Nearing the hangar, the extinguisher poles were activated; showering Thunderbird 2 with dense foam just as the right sided wheels exploded, Thunderbird 2 came to a grinding halt. The fire that was ignited was immediately starved of the oxygen it needed to burn.

Observing from the cliff-house emergency control room, Jeff and Tin-Tin, even Alan and Gordon could only stare at the downed aircraft in horror – completely frozen with shock of the incident they had all witnessed.

The only Tracy who was free of stupor was Scott. The eldest of siblings was determined to rescue his brother who was trapped and most likely marred – this, along with the radio silence, is what spurred Scott on to emancipate Virgil.

Once Scott pulled back the altitude controls, Thunderbird 1's leg stands deployed from the underside of its wings and turbo-jets with its single rear landing leg. The VTOL thrusters sparked from the underbelly to assist the 140 ton high-speed reconnaissance craft to settle on the far side of the runway.

The cockpit access hatch door parted open and the ladders deployed immediately from the storage well. Scott wasted no time to wait for the ladders safety locks to kick in. The pilot was already on the final step just as the stairs came to a halt on the scorched ground.

The cargo-bay of Thunderbird 1 lowered down just as Scott made a mad dash for the reactor section hull and cockpit bucket. He hurried to release the transmit clamps to park himself on one of the two hover-bikes. Strapped in the padded driver's seat, Scott grasped the steering column firmly, and at once the hover-bike hummed loudly as the turbines whirred softly.

Up in the emergency control room of the cliff-house, the staring eyes now watched closely as all four witnessed Thunderbird 1 descend for her pilot to land on his own feet.

“Is he . . . ?” Tin-Tin whispered.

“Scott! Don't go forth with what you have planned!” Jeff barked at his comms watch on his left wrist. “I'm sending Gordon and Alan down with the right equipment to get Virgil out.”

“Apologies Father, but I must,” Scott responded, his own comms raised close within an earshot, which he wished he could just end the transmission there and then as his Father's booming voice shot him deaf for a moment, while at the same time his tasking hand controlled the steering column to keep the hover-bike ascending to the top of Thunderbird 2.

Scott whipped out a laser gun from the holster of his sash and aimed for one of the several hatches of Thunderbird 2, cutting the outer rim where just below in the green leviathan was the Air-To-Air equipment bay.

Once the laser reached the starting point Scott had began, the panels gave way and fell inside, knocking most of the equipment over, but that was the last thing to ever fret about. Luckily the electromagnetic limpet was in one piece – Scott used this like a set of steps, hopping down slowly,

One door was left to gain access to the cockpit. Before Scott could begin to cut through the passenger entry, smoke was seeping through the hinges of the doors. It was thick and breath taking, Scott feared that the heavy cloud would cause life threatening smoke inhalation.

 _No_ . . . _It must have spread_! Scott knew he had little time before Virgil or himself would surely suffocate from thick smoke.

“ _Scott_!” the said man nearly jumped out of his skin. He didn't expect to hear his Father's booming voice echo from his comms watch a second time.

“I'm here Father,” Scott replied in a hoarse tone – the smoke was starting to weaken his voice.

“Listen closely; You have to activate the entry hatch for Gordon and Alan to enter Thunderbird 2, immediately.” Jeff continued on over the comms.

“I have to get Virgil out first!” Scott snapped. “The cockpit is seeping smoke into the central access deck – He'll suffocate if I continue to idle!”

Silence then fell, but Scott could hear the deep yet under-the-breath grumbles of his Father from the comms watch on his left wrist, along with the muffled roar of the fire that separates him from his brother.

Scott had to act fast! He had fewer options with zero choice and neither could exclude their risks. His laser gun would take too long to cut through the entry hatch.

 _Wait_ . . . _Hopefully the oxyhydnite is still aboard_. Scott had made his decision; Darting down the central access corridor, shuffling along the storage bay, he slid down the adjacent access ladder until his feet came in contact with the floor – He was now in the equipment deck.

The eldest of brothers hurried along to the port side, ducking and dodging the electromagnetic grabs along with its heavy-duty sister, minding his footing as he reached the inner hatch. In-front of him was the multi-function winch cable, mentally begging for the controls to still be operational as he set a trembling hand on the lever; Thankfully, the inner and outer hatch just steps away from Scott opened smoothly – the machinery whirred and hummed as it began to unwind the cable to descend down to the ground.

Satisfied with the equipment still operational, Scott raised the lever back to its original state to wind the winch cable back in its station. He then turned to scuffle along behind the heat-proof rescue cage where at his feet the access ladder storage well was fitted.

The eldest got down on his knees and with a flick of the switch at his side, gears hummed as the hatch parted way, allowing the fourteen-foot ladder to be deployed. Peering down to see the sandy runway that was still coated in foam, the foot of the ladders came to a halt just a few centimetres in depth of the said extinguisher source.

 _Gordon and Alan can get in now_ . . . _wherever they are_ , Scott now focused his attention to hurry on heading back up to the flight deck, and he did so without a moments hesitation. He was now back in the central access deck section, darting in the medical bay where a bright yellow stretcher sat atop a separate shelf above the many drawers, which were now flung open to grab every item of the first aid kit.

Meanwhile, in heat-proof suits, but holding their helmets under their arms to catch their breath, Gordon and Alan hurried along to the crippled Thunderbird. They were both relieved that the access ladder was out and waiting for them to climb inside to the equipment deck. Ducking and swerving themselves around all the vital equipment which hung on the hydraulic crane swing to reach the narrow corridor and climb the access ladder to enter Thunderbird 2's flight deck.

The two youngest brothers wasted no time to find Scott, in their minds, already tending to Virgil. Unfortunately, once they came to a halt within the central access deck, Scott was busying himself to cut open the door to the cockpit. He wasn't wearing any protective gear besides the mask that was important to don when using the oxyhydnite to cut through the steel doors – the last thing the eldest wanted was to pass out while he was trying to emancipate his second youngest from this horrific incident.

Gordon stepped forward, “Scott, we're here. How's the gas going with the door?” He spoke softly into the comms which were cleverly installed in the heat-proof suits.

Scott quickly glanced over his shoulder to see his younger siblings gaze at him with concern. He knew why; this equipment had been tested and also altered to be three times faster at penetrating through the thickest of doors than their laser beams they had favoured long ago.

“So far so good,” Scott muttered over the comms that was too installed in the mask. “The flame has managed to lick through the door. Despite how long it took back with the Thompson Tower scenario, I'm just about holding on.”

“Are you sure you can handle it Scott?” Alan asked. “We can take over if you feel off.”

“I'm fine for now Alan, thanks for offering to take over. But you two can get the stretcher prepared and the extinguishers ready to douse the fire.” 

Gordon and Alan looked at each other and nodded their heads; Alan made a bee-line for the medical bay where the extinguishers were also kept in a separate cabinet. He found two for he and Gordon. Before Alan could turn back his ears received a sharp pinch as a name was exclaimed with shock.

“Scott!” Gordon's voice echoed over the comms. Not only did Alan hear this, so did Jeff who remained in the emergency control room of the cliff-house, staring down at the crippled Thunderbird. Tin-Tin also remained with him, and after catching word from the Grand-Mother of the family, Kyrano and Sally could not help but come and see what the damage was.

“Boys, what's going on?!” Jeff barked down at his comms-watch. He received no hopeful reply, just static.

Jeff listened closely to the static to be sure he could possibly hear any one of his sons. After all, he did teach the boys many other ways to return the transmission between he and themselves.

But that shrill voice from the comms only made the situation more unsettling.

Jeff could not have seen this coming, so why did he feel it was necessary to blame himself? It was the Navy who had caused all of this. But of all the routines a U.S.N Sentinel just had to detect the most vital aircraft of our organisation.

“Gordon? Alan! Respond! What is your situation?” Jeff calmly called down the comms in the softest tone he could muster.

It may have been the hope or the gripping pain in his heart with anxiety trying to claim the poor man as its victim, but the static vanished, and broken words could be heard from the control panels speaker dials Jeff remained behind, over-looking the runway, watching for any signs of his sons to come out of Thunderbird 2.

Jeff wasn't the only one to begin straining his hearing and gaze, standing at both sides, and with a comforting hand on his shoulder, Kyrano, Tin-Tin and Sally remained as vigilant company.

“ _International Rescue from Alan Tracy, do you read_?”

“Alan!” Jeff cried, his voice breaking a tad in pitch. “What has happened?”

“ _It was Scott_ , _Father_ ,” Gordon took over the comms, “ _He was using the oxyhydnite gas to cut open the entry to the cockpit_. _He became abit light-headed just as the door gave way, but he's just fine_.”

“Thank goodness!” Tin-Tin and Sally both exclaimed, sighing with such relief, they held each for a moment and enveloped Kyrano briefly as Jeff took a moment to let the information sink in, and both youngster's voices.

“Right then – Scott, can you hear me?” Jeff queried to hear his eldest son.

“ _Loud and clear_ , _Father_ ,” Scott replied. His voice was hoarse once again.

“Very good,” Jeff knew that Scott would not back down from continuing to rescue his brother. He had to retain his stern tone, “I'd rather you step back and let Gordon and Alan see to the rest, but I can't restrain you, just go steady.”

“ _I promise_ ,” Scott responded. “ _We'll be in touch and remain open on this frequency until we're all out of Thunderbird 2_.”

“ _F.A.B_ Scott,” Jeff took another moment to continue the order to his sons. “Gordon, Alan, I need you to remind your brother that he is not invincible while you extricate Virgil.”

“ _F.A.B._ ” Gordon and Alan replied in unison.

Jeff sighed softly, “As proud I may be that my sons look after each other, they would certainly give Lucille quite the panic attack.”

“It's not easy keeping yourself level-headed in our field, dear,” said Sally, squeezing the shoulder of her own son she kept her grip on.

Back in Thunderbird 2, Alan and Gordon held the stretcher between themselves as Scott hurried to put out the fire with the foam-filled extinguisher, dousing the flames that were spreading closer to lick at Virgil's frame.

“Get Virgil out of the cockpit and tend to his vitals, now!” Scott barked at his younger brothers.

Gordon and Alan raced into the cockpit, laying the stretcher down by their unconscious brother, they carefully eased the third eldest onto the stretcher they left waiting in the central access deck. The brothers hurried with setting up the oxygen cylinder and mask to slide on with ease over Virgil's mouth and nose.

Scott remained in the cockpit while his youngest brothers strapped Virgil up on the stretcher, making sure he was secure and stable.

Scott managed to suffocate every inch of the cockpit from being damaged by the fire. He checked that not even an ember could survive much further after being drowned in foam. Seeming satisfied, Scott spun on his toes and hurried towards his youngest brothers.

"How are his vitals?" the eldest asked.

"Scarily weak," Alan replied.

"Who knows how much smoke he's inhaled," said Gordon, "He needs the proper respiratory equipment to do the rest."

Scott couldn't agree more. They had to get out of Thunderbird 2, but the only way down was a one-man lift and narrow ladders that were too steep to guide their unconscious brother, who had to remain on the stretcher to prevent any hidden injuries being disturbed.

Scott raised his left hand up and spoke to his comms watch, "International Rescue from Scott Tracy, come in please."

Jeff was quick to answer the call, "Scott, where are you?"

"We're in the central access deck," Scott replied, "we can't get down to the storage well. The lift is for one person only and the adjacent ladders are either narrow or steep."

" _Scott, wait_!" Brains called over on the comms, " _There's the s_ \- _s_ \- _storage_ _well in the room that stores the turret. The h_ \- _hatch_ _can be extended and the wall ladders work the s_ \- _same way_."  
  
Gordon and Alan shared a look as they gripped the handles of the stretcher. They remained crouched down, knees bent, and ready to lift their brother.  
  
"That settles it," said Gordon.  
  
"It's now or never Scott," Alan spoke as he looked up at his eldest brother, "If we take that path then we can use the equipment deck and its access ladder. Or even use the cable and winch if they are still operational."  
  
"They are," Scott then stepped past his brothers and made his way to the open hatch, leading down to the central corridor. He turned to his left and opened the door to a separate bay where the turret remained.  
  
"Gordon, Alan," Scott called over through the comms, "make your to the turret bay. I'll get the hatch to the storage bay open."  
  
" _F.A.B_." the youngest confirmed in sync.  
  
 _I need to make sure the hydraulic crane isn't keeping any of the grappling equipment in the way._ Scott was quick to deploy the ladders from the wall, and just as Brains confirmed, they extended down to a perfect gradient and the steps folded out as a stairway.  
  
Scott looked up to see Gordon and Alan had started to pivot their unconscious brother to be carried down.  
  
"Top or bottom Alan?" Gordon asked.  
  
"Bottom," Alan answered. "Scott, can you have my back?"  
  
" _F.A.B_. Alan. Come down halfway with the handles just above your shoulders."  
  
Alan did so; once he was in perfect alignment to take the bottom of the stretcher's handles. At the same time, Gordon braced himself with bent knees, shuffling abit forward before he could see the first step to set his feet on.

Alan looked up at Gordon who gave a light nod of his head; He was ready. The two youngest brothers began to descend down the stairs, one step at a time.  
  
Scott watched them with baited breath. He knew his brothers could work fine together, but with Virgil being the muscle of all rescues, he was quite the weight for even two young male adults.  
  
At long last, the two youngest brothers had accomplished the feat of descending the slightly widened hatch. The luck wasn't over yet; the equipment on the hydraulic crane were stationed on the far side of the deck, which gave the brothers the better mobility to reach the multi-function winch section without more obstacles to delay the much needed medical attention Virgil must receive.  


The brothers worked swiftly as they secured the stretcher to four cables. Scott took charge of the winch controls while Gordon and Alan hurried down the main access ladder that was nestled under Thunderbird 2's nose cone.  
  
Gordon and Alan were greeted by Brains and Tin-Tin who were at the ready to assist. The quartet watched as Virgil was winched down - the stretcher was now hanging between the group at waist level. They uncoupled the steel connectors of the bridles and took an end each.  
  
 _Finally_ , Scott sighed loudly as he watched the cables return to their rightful position. The eldest eased himself down the ladder, leaving Thunderbird 2 to remain on the runway. Her pilot comes first and then she will be next to receive the repairs.  
  
Scott took one last look at the crippled aircraft. "It could have been alot worse . . . I've seen it happen before." Fists clenched tight against the man's sides, he hurried inside the cliff face hangar - leaving the memories aside. He had to see Virgil. He had to know what his brother would be up against while grounded to recover from the crude ordeal.


End file.
